Limerick Poems About Writing | Write Limerick Poems

Ted’s libido has now gone astray
He refused a quick roll in the hay
So what could be the cause -
It’s the male menopause
He’s been grumpy and snappy all day!
His testosterone levels have dropped
Many Viagra pills he has popped
He drops one in his tea
It will keep his cookie
Standing up straight whenever it flopped
By jingo, Ted’s put on so much weight
It’s not down to the lunches he ate
His once perfect tush
Has now turned to mush
Ted should diet before it’s too late
His middle aged paunch has been spreading
Can’t fit in the suit from his wedding
He once was so hot
Now he’s gone to pot
And now I hear he wets his bedding
Ted’s developing male breasts, I see
So I renamed them "moobies," tee hee
They stick out so far
He needs a 'man bra'
If measured - he’d be bigger than me!
Ted’s losing all the hair on his head
(It’s sprouting from his nostrils instead)
With long hairs in his ear
Poor Ted can hardly hear
And he braids it when he goes to bed
BY JAN ALLISON
8/4/18
Mister T has trouble finding his ding dong
I have to laugh even though I know it's wrong
He's nothing but a wimp
Now that his parts are limp
Bet he knows where it all started to go wrong
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ted is anxiously awaiting his date
A beautiful blond he met out of state
took blue pills from his pocket
to help rev up his rocket
but he wonders if she would rather wait
WRITTEN BY TANIA KITCHIN
"I'm so sorry"Apologised Ted
To his wife, as they lay in their bed
It's not you that's the cause
It's that male menopause
"Do you fancy a cocoa instead".
WRITTEN BY RICHARD D SEAL
Well the doc said “you need exercise”,
So it’s football today with the guys,
Roger yells “on me head!”
“Well I could do,” says Ted,
“What’s the point though, when everything dies?”
WRITTEN BY NINA PARMENTER
That male menopause can be iffy,
do more than just cost you your stiffy.
You've no more will to jerk;
it's just way to much work,
but you'll write new haiku in a jiffy!
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Ted had a problem didn't know the cause
his mate told him it's the manopause
advised him to see Bill
to purchase a blue pill
Bill said this will amuse her indoors
Ted asked his wife not to sneer or mock
when he told her it was such a shock
he had tried a blue pill
to give her a big thrill
worked too well its now a stumbling block.
WRITTEN BY ROY PETT
She burst into the room and caught Ted
lying naked, aroused on the bed
thought that she was the reason
that he was now 'in season'
not brochures for a new garden shed
WRITTEN BY VIV WIGLEY
There a was guy named Ted,that was cool
He would make all the young ladies drool
Now he’s married and limp
And he resembles a blimp
The “lift” tanked and the Mrs thinks his a fool
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
The male menopause caught up with old Ted
He's no longer the stallion in bed
But now he takes a little pill
Before he goes in for the kill
Now his poor wife just lays there full of dread
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
Ted used to be good in the sack.
`Til he started smoking that crack.
Now his wife`s had enough
and she`s left in a huff
and picked up a spare with Jack.
WRITTEN BY CHARLIE KNOWLTON
His wife asked, "Ted what's the cause"
He replied, "tis the male menopause,
I was embarrassed to mention
It won't stand to attention"
I'm afraid you've been clutching at straws."
WRITTEN BY GARY SMITH
Ted loved his "kit-and-kaboodle",
Kept it clipped like a champion poodle
But a glitch in his gland..
Meant the thing wouldn't stand
So it hung from his gut.like a noodle.
WRITTEN BY GREGORY R BARDEN

IF YOU WANT TO JOIN IN THE FUN PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME ANY POEMS TO BE ADDED

CUPID NAMED LYLE
There once was a young Cupid named Lyle
who always aimed his arrow with style
with one shot straight as a dart
he hit me and pierced my heart
Aimed for a girl: he missed by a mile.
T.J Grén
6th April, 2016
Inspired by poets who write in many different forms, I've had a go at writing my first ever limerick, which is totally out of my comfort zone.

For Miranda Lambert’s “Inspired” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
I wanted to write for this contest;
But my muse was staging a protest.
“Take me to the sea,” it pled,
“In this house, I languish, dead;
Put me in touch with nature, a forest.”
“Don’t stare at a screen, confined by walls;
Locked inside, my inspiration falls.
Surely there’s a babbling brook
Or a valley’s overlook.
Give me something to work with,” muse calls.
“If you fail to respond, I’ll attack
As you’re sleeping in a room black.
Thoughts you will never recall
Cannot upon your page fall;
Without me you’re nothing but a hack!”

A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousinHe’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)
There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut offIsn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)
Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)
He got kicked out of school (it was so funnyHe set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyardNow he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)
So to anarchy school he’ll apply!
Gosh, he’s rightThis limerick sucksIt’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or somethingToo bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazinesMost people don’t even consider limericks to be real poemsDANG it, I feel another one coming on.
Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.
CrapEven trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do itI just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerickI just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads thisYeah, the old chicken motif againAlways relating things togetherSo much for Chaos! I’m outta here.
Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name

We gained an hour, that's fact.
Try to keep your emotions intact!
I'm not sure how folks feel
but it's not a big deal
So please don't overreact!
That extra hour is not a big thing.
No matter what excitement it might bring.
Please don't be surprised,
cause you must realise
that you'll lose it again in the Spring!
Yeah, an hour ain't really much time,
to write a good Limerick or Rhyme.
The result, as you see,
is a shame, shame on me
cause this Limerick is really a crime!

Thomas was a tosser of the caber
Loved to practice in front of his neighbour
Oh boy how she would blush
When he wiggled his tush
For his caber glowed like a lightsabre
Just a fun write about the Scottish athletic event of tossing the caber which is practiced at the Scottish Highland GamesThe caber is usually made of larch wood - it is 5.94 tall and weighs 79kg
16th June 2015

I write of sad things in my life for you,
And win sometimes first place and this is true;
Some hate my weeping words,
That I write like a song bird;
So I give me, a compliment or two.
_________________________
June 20, 2015
Limerick
Inspiration Quote:
"When you cannot get a compliment in any other way, pay yourself one."
Mark Twain
For the contest, Write with the Wit of Twain
Sponsor, Andrea Dietrich
Seventh Place

My penchant for writing was showing
The comments I received were ‘glowing’
But at the end of the day
I get another N/A
My success in contests is slowing!
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON ON 1st September 2016
PLEASE FEEL FREE TO PUT YOUR CONTRIBUTION IN A COMMENT OR SOUP MAIL IT TO ME
Winners winners everywhere but not a one for me
Sadness is a heavy burden over my N/A poetry
I'll blame all my losses
on the judging albatrosses
I think I'll toss them all into the depths of the sea
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
The contest was posted as judged
To open that link, my mouse trudged
My write was not there!
I knew, with despair,
To NA trash bin it was nudged!
WRITTEN BY SANDRA HAIGHT
Never say never again
for time will soon erase that pain
Dry your tears ,don't be sad,
who is to say what's good or bad
Someone else might love your refrain
WRITTEN BY BRIAN STRAND
I checked the list not once but twice
It wasn't there to my suffice
I sulk my head
Then cry in bed
That mean old judge she isn't nice
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
Wrote one that was such fun to read
To a contest I posted full speed
People thought it a hoot .
It was given the boot
Tell me what must I do to succeed!
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
I entered a new contest today
I didn't make the list, got N/A
That has to be so wrong
My praise was a mile long
The judge was out of it on that day
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
There are contests you'll never win
You'll lose before you even begin
So don't waste your time
With your best rhymes
You'll just be tossed in the N/A bin!
WRITTEN BY JOSEPH MAY
My words meant so much when first written
So glowing the praise they were get 'in
From the published results
I endured such insults
That my dream of a Pulitzer lay smitten
WRITTEN BY CHARLIE SMITH
I once wrote a poem that fit
All the contest descriptionsAnd it
Was praised with much grace
I was hopeful to place,
But completely forgot to submit!
WRITTEN BY AGNES KRAMPE
I put my N/As in a row
Was like a long queue to a show!
Some resigned shrugging,
Bit of sighing ‘n frowning,
But such fun, so here again I go!
WRITTEN BY SAN WOO
For new contests, these poems I write,
The others feel my writing is bright,
But when the results come out,
My name is Nowhere About,
For the judge has found it Not Alright.
WRITTEN BY JO DANIEL
My inspiration for words are on track
I pat myself on the back
What the hack, I cracked
Another N/A I’ve racked
No more entries for this maniac
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER
As a poet wannabe, and new to this space
enthusiastic by a 1-3 place, and grace,
I feel bad for the true poets here,
My apologies but kiss my rear,
This is tongue and cheek, I’m here for the race!
Never knew what N/A did mean,
As I’m pretty new to the scene,
I'm back to support Jan,
Now folks that’s a TRUE fan
Better limericks I haven’t seen
WRITTEN BY MARK PAUL VAN DER MERWE
A funny poem I had written
Fit I thought for a competition
I'd celebrate with bacon -
The sponsor was mistaken!
A N/A has made me stay hidden
WRITTEN BY TEDDY KIMATHI

*This silly limerick was inspired by James Fraser He often compares himself to an
eagle and I had an attachment to an owl that used to live in my backyard He
challenged me to write a poem on a combination of the two: "Owglet." This one's
for you, James!
Ogling Owglet flew to the Bahamas
To catch a glimpse of Bahama Mamas
So sexy they seemed
But, boy, he turned green
They traded in his nest for Obama's

There was a hot poet called Jan
Who one day developed a plan
By hook or by crook
She’d write a kid’s book
And a lizard love story began
A lizard meets a pretty girl
Their tongues in unison unfurl
On a mossy rock
Their lives interlock
Together in love they now curl
for my so talented friend

Where do all the great poets go?
If you ask me so, I would say, "I don't know"
There must be some hidden pain
Writing poems relieves their brain
Dear ones are their poems greatest foe
Where do all the great poets go?
Ask the river, ask the melting snow
They may say, " He was just here
With his grief - eyes full of tears"
Writing poems does not pay also
Where do all the great poets go?
Ask the sun, ask the shining rainbow
They may say, " He was just here
Got caught with his write - in fear"
Dear ones are their poems greatest foe
Where do all the great poets go?
Ask the moon, ask Marugu Mo
There are problems in their life
They can't help but face the strife
Writing poems does not pay also
27.02.16
P.S: Poet Marugu Mo, himself is a great poet and his name rhymed with my poem nicelyA great poet can only give us some idea where the others have gone, so I have used his name in the title tooMy respectful greetings to Poet Marugu Mo and my dedication goes to him.

A politician called Ronald Dump
Loves to pat pretty girls on the rump
At a peachy pert tush
All his brains turn to mush
His wife floors him – you should see the lump!
Fictional write for fun
7th June 2016

I'm a firm believer
In limerick fever
(This isn't news)
"It'll cure the blues!"
Says Jan (who is no deceiver)
Written by Jan Allison:
Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
But show me someone
Whose not dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’d depart!
Written by Lim'rik Flats:
Does art mimic life or life mimic art?
Don't ask me, I'm not too smart.
It seems the soup
Has the same poop
As watching the news (or a fart).
Drama and trauma, factions and foes,
Smiting and fighting, (hard on the nose),
Saves me the trouble
Of viewing double
Saves time, and less grief I suppose.
Written by Ray Gridley:
Raise a toast to this collaboration
Whatever your race or your nation
Just write on a whim
Lim'rick Flat's bound to grin
They are all going to be a sensation!
Written by Daniel Turner:
I know a guy called Lim'rick Flats
Writes limericks at the drop of a hat
Jan is his pal
She's quite a gal
They met in a laundry mat
Jan makes jokes about poop
he puts them in alphabet soop
drinks from the bowl
with no self control
which makes him a nincompoop
Also written by Daniel Turner:
Write all the limericks you want
but don't fart in a restaurant
people will laugh
call you riffraff
even if you're a debutante
Written by John Lawless:
oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic
Written by Terry Reeves:
Late for work she flew out the door
Took an express elevator to the 29th floor
Let some discreet killer farts
Nearly stopped all their hearts
Left them gagging; she'd evened the score
Written by Tim Smith:
Nonsense is here found out in the alley
Five funny lines we'll add to the tally
a smile or two
we laught till we're blue
so put out your best and join in our rally
Written by Alexis Y:
Hey what's going on in the soup?
Lim'rik Flats I want the scoop
What do you have to say?
You got poem of the day
Congrats, I shouldn't have flown the coop
Written by Jean Murray:
John is always fun.
His poems and their puns.
If you need a lift.
He has the gift.
Lim'rik Flats is number one.
psst How could I not add this to the string? ~ john

There are many poets on Poetry Soup
Deb’s limerick contest has thrown for a loop
Try as they might
They can’t write it right
To Deb it comes out smelling like poop
Deb's instructions I've tried to hit
While writing my own lim-er-ick
Each and every time
I miss the meter and the rhyme
Throw up my hands and exclaim, "Oh.poop"

It's with great sadness and a lot of discomfort that I write
about an issue that needs addressing and brought to light
Several poets have long known
about a poet whose cover is blown
and cheats by entering their own contestsThat's not right.
What would you think of a poet entering contests of their making
and then winning high placements with names they are faking
That's stooping pretty low
I really wish it wasn't so
So I hope it comes to an end after this exposure and muckraking
*******************
It's not my intent to stir up trouble with this post, but in all good conscience I feel the need to inform all of you who write for contests that this has been happening for some time This is not an act of bitterness or ill will, but if this poet reads this, know that if it doesn't stop I'll report you to TPS I don't understand why a decent poet would do something like this

The Donald supporters were pissed
But Dorian Gray they have kissed!
Measured in fathoms
Their brains’ empty chasms
All hail the chief narcissist
Author's Note: Sunshine Smile's recent post, "Showtime," inspired me to write thisHer poem really speaks to me
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" is a philosophical novel by Oscar Wilde, first published complete in the July 1890 issue of Lippincott's Monthly Magazine as described in WikipediaI urge those who are unfamiliar with the story to check out the plot
I do understand people's anger It's unfortunate the rest of us didn't do more to retrain and help the folks between the coasts--like the former coal minersI really liked Bernie SandersHillary was more a representation of the status quoI think she lost the election when she called Donald supporters, "deplorables." She didn't get it
"Make America Great Again," is doublespeak for, "Take advantage of the downtrodden and poor." We all share the same planet and its resourcesThere will be blowback from what we are doing in this countryNo wall or immigration ban will keep us safe from ourselves and what we representWe have not yet embraced sustainability, and I sincerely doubt the richest cabinet in history will have an intent to help minersMine owners are the ones they want to helpStay tuned worldIt is "showtime."

*if ya wanna add some sillies, hop on the wagon!
After the feast, Tommy was gone
Hen said, "Don't worry, won't be for long."
"He'll reincarnate,
Just sit and wait."
"He's not just SOME - POET, Tommy's a song."
"He's always a gas, loads of fun,
With plenty of wit and good with a pun."
"If you miss him,
Be sure to kiss 'em,
When he comes again to shine like the sun."
By Jan Allison:
When he struts it engorges his snood
Oh my goodness that really sounds rude
It dangles from his beak
You must go take a peek
See Tom is the king of his brood.
By ilene bauer:
He was missed, though, by all of his group
Who felt bad he was out of the loop
So they jotted some rhymes
Thinking 'bout those good times
Now he's brought back to life on the soup!
By Alexis Y:
Tommy the turkey is not gone
He's hibernating and listening to a song
When he comes back
His strut won't be whack
Maybe this time he'll arrive with loud gong
By rogerPAT Adams:
When he struts it's more of a wobble
No matter if ground, grass or cobble
Though it might seem rude
When he's in the mood
I've heard he loves to gobble!
By Jack Ellison:
Tommy can be very rude at times
But down deep, his star really shines
His heart glows bright
Nothing bad I can write
Like his author, he's a master of rhyme"

Jan Allison, Jack Ellison, believe it or not there's no relation
Both love to write about poop, do you see the correlation?
Canada and the Isle Of Man
A loving connection, this poetry clan
Joining hands across the seas, true love among nations

To all you wannabe poets
To all you wannabe poets,
Here's a word of advice ere you start:
If you want folks to love it,
Keep your ego out of it.
When you write always write from the heart.
Dressing up a poem
It's great fun to write haiku and sonnets
About rainbows and gay Easter bonnets,
But if you find them too terse,
Try to flesh out your verse,
And festoon it with quatrains and nonets.
Scriptor Interruptus
Poets come, and poets go, and poets coincide.
Some rhyme time and time again, others "free verse" with pride.
But those who let their egos reign
Oft fade and never scribe again.
They succumb to the literary sin of "authorcide".
The pleasure and the pain
Writing is for me both pain and pleasure,
The time I spend with pad and pen I treasure.
I must confess, though,
Sometimes I stress so
When syllables I try to use refuse to measure.

I write Star Wars limericks with aplomb.
'Cuz Star Wars is simply the bomb!
But they don't appear
On this nice website here,
They're at Starwarslimericks dot blogspot dot com!
No special effects there, I'm sorry.
A few pictures but nothing too gory.
I start at the beginning
And I keep on spinning
Retelling the whole Star Wars story!

Last week featured poetic Drama
Like living at home with your momma
Poetic, inspiration
Perhaps taken vacation
So watch your P’s, your Q’s and comma
Jack’s Sprat had the nastiest critic
Mary said, “You just better quit it!”
Jack said, “I may as well split!”
Mary’s mad enough to spit
Soup is family, don’t you get it!!!!
So be kind to your critics
Often times they don’t get it
Write loving features
Appease mad creatures
Write of love or forget it
++++++++++++++++++++
For and in honor of Carol Brown
And contest: Write it for yourself

I only had eyes for you when we first met,
And yes blondes have more fun it's true my pet.
How we walked hand in hand
And rolled naked in the sand...
"**** you! that was my sister - I'm the brunette!"
------------
For the Write with the Wit of Twain contest.
Quote: Under certain circumstances, profanity
provides a relief denied even to prayer.
June 2015

Slammed by
Mother...President...Teacher...Poet...&...Form
A MOTHERS LOVE
Mother always called me a lousy kid, with a shove
I was the only kid she wanted to get rid of
On my head she always smacked me hard.
She would always slam me calling me a retard
My mother gave me the best slamming love.
((( my mother the best slammer there ever was)))
_______________________________________________
WE ARE THE WORLD
Slam back at any country, at any given event
I feel bad for any so called President.
"WE THE PEOPLE" the Republic and the Democrat.
Slamming each other talking crap
In a world full of slam and argument.
((( The world toughest fight is slam not war )))
_______________________________________________
TEACHERS PET
Our teachers kept on and on how we where wrong with a fuzz.
She just stood there and slammed each and everyone of us.
Making us write an essay on broken rules.
Kept us all after school calling us stupid fools
Who knew teachers where allowed to slam and cuss?
((( Teachers words of slam can ruin any future )))
______________________________________________
ROAD BLOCK
Have you ever heard of a poet blocker.
All they are is a slam stocker
They over abuse their blocking right.
Trying to make other poets fight.
Always trying to slam a point across, like a mocker.
((( Hating against any form of poetry is a slam it self )))
_____________________________________________
JUDGING CONTEST
Can you guess that slam is just a risky business
Picking out the best slam words from the rest.
Testing out a form we don't know how to let it flow.
Darn the soup for putting slam on the box below.
Even the best have join my slamming contest.
((( Thank you Soup for SLAMMING us with your A-Z list-form)))
_____________________________________________

This Scottish guy never cares for the norm
It doesn't bother his ass, no matter the form
There's too much of this
And there's too much of that
Please write to the form, or suffer the storm
May I add this doesn't conform to the Syllable count.

Once again I write what I think
Include your name, hell that stinks
It should all be read blind
Just imagine the finds
Leave the Judges purely in think
All contests should be read blind, unless a Workshop named!

Hey barber, give me a shoe and a shine
As he's lathered he feels just fine
Then he views the shoe shiner
Wow, what breasts, nothing finer
My hands on them I wish they were mine
Young lady, let's spend time in a motel room
Get to know each other, vroom vroom
I'm married, och, you'll be fine
I'll pay, say your working overtime
You tell him, the barbers my groom
.
Challenged to write this based on a joke!

An Egyptian I never could be,
but since reading of their history,
in limerick form
I now write to inform
my friends of the Gods’ family tree.
From “Waters of Chaos” came Nun,
the only God under the sun.
The first piece of ground
rose up as a mound.
Hun stood there and coughed up a son!
Hun spat out the God of Air, Shu,
and he spat out a cute goddess too.
Tefnut was her name.
Moisture was her fame.
She and Shu beget children - two!
Their son was named Geb; the girl, Nut.
I’m not sure how to say her name, but
I sure like to say
Goddess Sky’s name the way
that rhymes with the famous King Tut.
When he laughed, the son Geb, “God of Earth,”
made the earth shake beneath his great girth.
I think Geb is busy
in modern days, for he
quakes often, for he’s fond of mirth!
For the tale to proceed, there ensued
some more incest, and not to be crude,
Nut, the Goddess of Sky,
got it on with the guy,
King of Earth, and they had a big brood.
There came forth from their coupling,
Queen Isis and a new Earth King,
Osiris, who was
a good king because
he ruled all rebirth, a great thing!
One son, against harmony, came
to kill Osiris, and his name
was Seth; once again
like the story of Cain -
an envious brother to blame.
But Seth got his just desserts when,
having married his Mom Isis, then
he was killed by HIS son,
named Horus, who won
the throne, and so “good” ruled again.
From Seshat to Sekmet to Rah,
Gods were worshipped by ancients with awe.
You’d have worshipped them too
had you been born to do
your poems on papyrusHa ha.

Two martians they landed on earth
Most earthlings gave them a wide berth
A photo was taken
The image is makin’
a fortune - just think of its worth!
Contest Write with the wit of Twain – Andrea Dietrich
06~19~15
If they had not landed there would be some reason for celebrating the fact.
Mark Twain

They invade the cafe at first light
Then with latte and laptop held tight
They seize tables for four
To let go nevermore
So all others drink coffee upright
With a bored intellectual stare
That one hankers to be Molière
If he's writing a play
For a hit on Broadway
Then its plot must involve Solitaire
One's quite the scientific young chap
For which typing is no handicap
He must write his thesis
By psychokinesis
Cause the keyboard gets hardly a tap
That one with the big apple fritter
Is researching a mental transmitter
He's receiving the thoughts
Of strange cosmonauts
Transferred through Facebook and Twitter
Perhaps you will think I'm pretentious
And more than a little contentious
But it's just a disgrace
To monopolize space
And I think that's the general consensus

I'm retired but do I still have a life
Yes, sexual adviser I am to my wife
But if I say try this
It'll be totally bliss
If I desire I'll ask for your advice
.
Challenged to write on the back of a Joke!

Did you hear about Ricky the Raccoon
Who found a cat who had swooned
He returned it back home
In case, dazed it did roam
His reward, a night on the toon
Francine posted an image on Facebook to write about, this is mine.
To see the image, copy and paste my link below and paste.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour-4.php

One can write limericks on a dime
All you need is some rhythm and rhyme
A quick li'l jest
Now that's the best
Just make sure your joke arrives on time!
(preferably not passed the fifth line)
NOTE: I was gonna post this for the Limerick Contest, but I wrote it a day too late.in any case it was fun nonetheless :)

There was once a daydreamer called Hank.
It was thought that he was just a crank.
He was labelled a con.
His ideas caught on.
Then he ran all the way to the bank.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Quote from Mark Twain:
“A crank is someone with a new idea, until it catches on.”
Contest: Write with the wit of Twain
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placed 3rd

I have a peaceful easy feeling
As I sit and write this poem
Comprising 5 old songs
Which remind me of my home
They show me the importance
They teach me with such grace
To get up every morning
With a smile on your face
My youth was filled with ballads
Verses I could trust
And we all know what memories bring...
They bring dia-monds and rust
Songs taught me that my friends were
The wind beneath my wings
To treasure and embrace them
To value what life brings
There's a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
For me, 'bout sums it up
The hope one feels within
Sometimes a simple sound
Or smell can be so strong
It carries me back light years
To one specific song
And in that song I bask
I know what each line means
Transcended to the past
Dressed in my tie-dyed jeans.
Eagles – Peaceful Easy Feeling
Carol King - Beautiful
Joan Baez - Diamonds and Rust
Bette Midler - Wind Beneath My Wings
Leonard Cohen - Anthemn

Go tell it on the mountain
That – twenty eleven is for Robin!
Once I was on the road to perdition
And my mind was wrought
But then saw I the light
Shinning so bright
And all was right.
Now that I have got myself a gun
I will shoot my way to Zion
Roaring like a lion!
Yeah - I am not afraid of Babylon
For mine eyes have seen her ruin.
I want uncommon heroes for twenty eleven
All dead and slain!
For his marvelous patience – Darwin
And for his unconquerable faith – Saint Campion
Edgar Allan Poe – for his crazy imagination
Just in case someday I will have to bleach my skin
I will add Michael Jackson
Ofcourse I wont forget MrsSimpson
Lest I fall in love and it will be my ruin.
Mine vision won’t be written on the wall
Unlike that of Habakkuk the Prophet
But I will inscribe it in my heart
Lest it will be seen and copied by all.
For I have been taught not to trust
By the lady whose smile is so bright!
And don’t let it be forgot
That when faced with reality.
I managed to wring out of life
A promise of eternity
To my utmost relief.
After I thought all I thought
And felt all l felt at the end of twenty ten
What philosophers call reflection
I resolved! No, I firmly purposed! Yes - I determined to write!
But write what?
Does it matter - will write myself a verse, a story, or even a sermon
Because of all the titles given to men
The tag writer appeals to me the most!
And if this be vanity
Then make the most of it!

She’s out there chasing a cricket
Through bush, through shrub & through thicket
Together they hop
Fugitive, cop
But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
A cat whose vet took his eye
Just cannot quite understand why
His eye’s been enucleated,
3-D vision reduciated,
So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye
Ya gotta keep limericks loose
Think green eggs, or perhaps DrSeuss
They’re structured, it’s true,
But they’re also a zoo
Whose tenants are all on the loose!
I frolic in fountains of words
Overflowing with serious absurds
Each poem I write
Wakes up and takes flight
Joining angels and faeries and birds
You ask that we write a good limerick
How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick
So I struggle and frown
Teaching poems to clown
So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick
A cat with a mouth full of mouse
Brought her feast right into my house
She played with her food
Who was not in the mood
To be a banquet of mouse in the house
The nightmares that shadow my sleep
Stampede the proverbial sheep
Right out of my mind
When I try to unwind
I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep
In her search for original truth
She met people unsavory and couth
She knitted and purled
But only unfurled
Yarns told by new age and old youth
Cat, suddenly pink,
Drinks her water from out of the sink
She looks so absurd
Since she’s been de-furred
I really don’t know what to think!
If one and one is two and two is four,
And there’s only two ways to go through a door,
Then, is earth up or down?
And, where is down town?
These are questions we need to explore!
A was that is an is
Tried to mind my biz
But I sent it packing,
Its presence was lacking
And I don’t have time for such shiz!
A couple who lived in Los Lunas
Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness
They’d stare at the air,
Over here, over there
And rejoice at the feeling of newness
A cat with a very fat gut
Found it easier to walk on his butt
He’d drag it around
Across carpet and ground
And use it to slam the doors shut
Said the Missus to her dear MrOtter,
“There’s something I think that you oughta
Do before we get old
To protect us from cold –
You oughta make the hot water hotter!”
The ghosts who live up in my attic
Make noises that sound much like static
I’ve tried to send them away,
But they’re here to stay,
Those staticky ghosts in my attic

I once knew a poet named Paul
The English he spoke with a drawl.
His major concern
To write and to learn
To walk with head high and not crawl.
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Contest: Sensitive Community
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placed 3rd

Once there were two writer friends Wallace and Cooper.
Into novelization of the original King Kong film, no souper.
“Edgar Wallace didn't write any of Kong, not one bloody word...
I'd promised him credit and so I gave it to him” Cooper’s word
Bloody, informal discussions do worth acknowledgement Cooper!